


It's What You Fucking Get

by Anonymous



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Creampie, Crying, F/M, Humiliation, Incest, Nipple Play, Public Sex, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22077376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Vanya likes to take the ferry late at night, when she can't sleep.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 5
Kudos: 107
Collections: Anonymous





	It's What You Fucking Get

**Author's Note:**

> The tradition of "Vanya is raped on public transit!" continues! Once again written for the kink meme!

Vanya leaned forward, the railing of on the deck of the ship pressing into her stomach. The air was cold and bracing in her face, and a little bit of spray hit her in the face. It was dark - the lights in this particular point of deck didn't work, and Vanya was enjoying the solitude. 

Since Vanya had written her book, she hadn't been able to sleep.

Well, no, that wasn't completely true. She'd been sleeping great when she'd sent it off to the publisher, she'd been photographed. It had all been great. Until she had received the first tearful call from Allison. Until she'd run into Diego on the street, and he'd glared at her so hard that she was half afraid she'd burst into flames. Until Luther had hung up the phone when he heard her voice on the other end.

They all _hated_ her, and she didn't understand why - she was just telling what happened. Were they that ashamed of what it was that they had done to her? So what if people knew a couple of embarrassing anecdotes about their lives - they knew embarrassing anecdotes about _her_ life, too. 

(And okay, so maybe they had a right to be angry, but... well, she had the spotlight for the first time in her life. She was going to ignore it, regardless of what her conscience might have been saying to her). 

The insomnia had left her tossing and turning, and she hated staring up at the ceiling. She was still a bit too uncomfortable with trying to bring someone home. She was lonely, it was true, but how was she supposed to find a partner? After her last girlfriend, well... Vanya didn't want to think about that too hard.

But the ferry ran on twenty four hours, on the hour, and it was free. She would get on the boat, ride to the island, then get off of the boat to ride it back to the city. The rocking of the boat was calming, and the smell of the river was... not precisely nice, per se, but it cleared her head. Standing in the dark, she wasn't the person who'd betrayed her family, she wasn't the freak who was too ordinary to be good for anything and too poisoned by her upbringing to be normal. She could rest her elbows on the railing, and she'd listen to the water. 

Nobody else was on the ferry, apart from a janitor here and there, or a college student coming home from the university. Sometimes a group of partiers heading to the city would drunkenly carouse around one of the lower levels, but she was just a mousey woman in the shadows. Nobody cared about the tiny woman in pajama pants and an old hoodie, not at this time of night. 

Vanya was jolted out of her reverie by a body behind her. She hadn't heard anyone coming onto the outer deck, but then again, she did tend to get lost in thought. There was a body just close enough that she could feel the warmth of it, and then there was a big body pressed against her own. It was a _big_ body, a body that was big enough for a chin to rest on top of her head. There were arms on either side of her body, and she squirmed.

There were hands on her hips. They weren't on the railing anymore, they were on her belly, big palms pressing down through the hoodie. 

Vanya wasn't saying anything - she _should_ have said "no" right now, screaming, should have done _something_ , but nothing was coming out of her mouth. She shook, as the person - the _man_ \- held her closer. There was something pressing against her ass, and she squirmed some more, as it was ground forward. 

The hand was sliding under the hem of her hoodie, and his fingers dug into her belly. She whined, a low sound in the back of her throat, and she hated it with all of her heart. His hand held her breast, and he squeezed it hard enough that she had to bite her lip to keep from _squealing_. Her heart was beating desperately under his palm, and he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging on it hard enough that it sent a little arrow of arousal through her. 

Both of her breasts were being held know, kneaded like bread dough. He twisted both of her nipples at once, like he was trying to tune a radio. She was getting wet, how could she be getting wet when she was getting felt up on the boat by some weirdo creep? She gave a quiet little sob, and that made whoever it was yank on her nipples again, harder. He was pushing his hips against her incessantly, as steady as a metronome. She was being held, she was being pinned right there, and he was pushing her hoodie up, and the air was cold on the warm skin. Her nipples seemed to get even harder, when they were bared, and she whined again, harder. 

“Sh,” whispered the voice of the man, and she _almost_ recognized it, almost. “Sh, sh, sh…” More humping against her ass, and then one hand let go of her breasts, to slide down the loose waistband of her pajama pants. A palm cupped her vulva, the heel of a hand ground into her clit, and she gasped. It wasn’t the kind of thing she normally liked, wasn’t the slow, deliberate push and pull of arousal that got her going. 

So why was she so _wet_?

Two fingers were shoved into her - pausing to see if she was ready for it, nothing to build the anticipation, just two fingers, shoved in, and then there was a thumb on her clit. A stubbly chin was rubbing against her temple, and it was rubbing her _raw_ , uncomfortably so. She had tears dripping down her face, and they were getting colder in the cold air. She clenched around the fingers, some part of her foolishly trying to push them _out_ , but that didn’t do anything but make him chuckle some more. The thumb on her clit was moving faster, and she shuddered all over again, breaking out in more goosebumps.

“Sh,” he murmured, “sh, sh…” She wanted him to stop saying that, wanted him to stop touching her, wanted… what did she even want? 

“Please,” she mumbled. “Please. Stop. I won’t t-t-tell anyone, I won’t…” She sobbed, and more fingers were fucking into her, forcing themselves deeper. They were spreading open, and he was twisting them. She sobbed again, harder, and she should have been wriggling, but the wind was blowing into her face and the water seemed so close, and _what if he pushed her in_? 

His hand left her pussy, and she hated how cold she was, hated how warm his body was and how much better it felt to have the warmth against her. She hated the way his breath gusted across her neck, and more than anything else, she hated the desperate emptiness inside of her. How could she miss the fingers that had been _raping_ her? 

Her pajama pants were being shoved down her thighs, and she was being shoved forward. There was something hot and blunt pressed against her thigh, and then it was being dragged across the crease of her thigh. She shivered, and then she was shaking her head harder, as a cock was pressed between her thighs. It was… rubbing, up and down the line of her labia, pressing against her, and it making her wetter, pushing her closer to her orgasm. The head of his cock kept bumping against her clit, and she whimpered, trying to get away, trying to wriggle away from him. 

The cock against her was moving, and then it was pressing into her. It was slick and hot and wet, it was _hard_. It was too much, too big, and it would be breaking her in half. She didn’t want a cock in her… so why were her internal muscles pulling him in deeper? Why was she making desperate little gasping noises, as he twisted her nipples. He could push her into the water like this, as he fucked her over the railing of the boat, his hips shoving her forward. She was clenching the railing of the boat so hard that her knuckles were white, but she should have scratched him, punched him, done _something_. She was still crying, and it was getting ugly now, snotty, ugly crying as she was fucked harder. 

He was rubbing her clit - his fingertip was rubbed against her clit, and she was clenching around him, her toes curling. She sobbed again, and he rubbed her harder, humping her, his cock was so hard and thick and heavy inside of her, so hot. It was burning her like a brand, and she was going to be sick, as she saw the lights of the island coming closer. Maybe he’d be spooked when the horn went off, when they landed. Unless he killed her. Unless he just shoved her forward. 

His finger rubbed her harder, faster, and she was getting tighter, and she was getting closer to her orgasm. She didn’t want to be close to an orgasm, she didn’t want to have an orgasm, she didn’t want any of this, She whined, and the hand on her breast pressed it flat. She had such small breasts it was barely even holding on, and the man’s fingers were digging into the soft tissue around her breast as well. It _hurt_ , and it matched up with the pounding of his hips, It shouldn’t have left her this desperate, shouldn’t have been this sweet.

Some small part of her shouldn’t have been hoping that it would keep up. 

“You fucking love this,” said a voice in her ear, as her nipple was twisted and her clit was rubbed again, in the little figure eights that she’d always loved. “You wanted this, so take it.” 

Wait a minute.

She knew that voice. That couldn’t be -

“Diego?” Vanya’s voice cracked, and then her clit was being _tweaked_ , she was getting tighter, wetter, she was getting closer, it absolutely wasn’t fair. 

“You had to write that stupid fucking book,” Diego growled. “You had to do that, so this is what you fucking _get_.” He grabbed her by the throat, pulling her closer. His fingers were passing over the spot where his cock sank into her, and then she went completely rigid against him, as he pleasure that had been filling her seemed to overflow. 

Vanya came on her brother’s cock, and he wrung every last bit of pleasure out of her. He held her limp body against his, and then there was the spreading, pulsing heat as he came, his heart beating harder against her shoulder, his sweaty chin rubbing into her hair. 

“That’s what you fucking get,” he said. “That’s what you fucking _get_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't write a sequel to this without my permission. Even if you are "honest to God possessed" after reading it. 
> 
> The ferry was based on the Staten Island ferries. If you've ever taken one late at night... you know the exact atmosphere I'm talking about here.


End file.
